Save Me
by Melancholic Zero
Summary: Defeated and pained, America struggles with his own crumbling mind while trapped in the snowed-in house of Russia. M for Lemon and Violence, with the former in later chapters.
1. Prologue

_~Warning: This story will contain ideologically sensitive material, if you are easily offended by anything in the whole wide world, please leave me in peace.~_

**Save Me**

The first thing America noticed was the cold, a cold that nipped at his ears and fingers, slowly spreading throughout his body like an uninvited guest. He couldn't imagine what the water below him must be like, and he was suddenly thankful for the strength of American naval ships.

He sighed, slowly removing his fogged up glasses and wiping the bottom of his shirt across them. As soon as he got out of this frozen country, the better. If only Russia wasn't so stubborn…America wouldn't be freezing his ass out here if Russia would just surrender and let this silly war be over.

The roar of another ship brought America out of his anger, a smile reappearing on his face as he prepared to take down another element of Russia's pitiful navy. He stood up straight, putting on his glasses and taking out his pistol, it was all that he needed. A strong country like him was a powerful weapon, he could take down this ship full of humans all on his own. Still grinning, he began to run, launching himself off of the rail of his own sea craft and landing on the opposing deck in an inhuman feat of strength.

"Prepare to sink, ya stupid Soviet bastards!" America yelled at the top of his lungs, firing a pistol shot into the air.

He saw several soldiers, eyes wide with surprise. They shouted words in Russian that America neither knew nor cared about, running at him in a large group.

Only one of the soldiers didn't follow, clad in a large back coat that covered the bottom half of his face, a hat covering everything but his faraway eyes.

America didn't seem to notice, laughing a triumphant laugh as he pointed his pistol at the armed soldiers running at him "Last chance, commies! Surrender or die!" even if they didn't understand, his meaning was clear enough.

Soon, they all lay on the ground, blood seeping into the boards of the ship below them, an expression of shock on each one of their bloodstained faces. The lone soldier looked up at America, who kissed his pistol with a wide grin.

America caught the man's eye a few seconds later, still smiling. He would have let this man live if he ran….but such a calm demeanor in the face of death? That was the part about Russians that really ticked America off.

America aimed his gun, allowing the man a few seconds to do something, anything, but with no result. The man just stared at him with an unnerving calmness, unlike anything America had seen before.

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, America pulled the trigger, his eyes shut as the bullet ripped free towards the last Russian soldier on board.

There was the screech of metal on metal, a horrid sound that made America flinch, and then there was no noise at all. Hesitant, America opened his eyes to see what had caused such an annoying noise.

And saw that his bullet had hit a pipe that the soldier held in front of him, badly denting the metal but not piercing it entirely.

"Dude, how did you…" Surprised at the speed of the soldier, America pulled back the hammer and pulled the trigger one more, nothing but a faint _click_ was audible. He was out of bullets.

"Well, that didn't take very long." The soldier finally spoke, his accent thick but understandable. He began to take slow, steady steps toward the bespectacled man several feet away from him.

America paused his search for more bullets "Woah, what? How the heck are you able to speak the world language? Only countries kn-" realization hit America like a train at full speed "Russia! Man, what are you doing here?"

"It's rather cheap, you know. Using yourself to fight humans." The man's eyes were visible, his purple eyes shining brilliantly "So unfair…I felt as if something needed to be done, da?" He reached one gloved hand out, now dangerously close to America "Using your incredible power to hurt the weak…you're nothing but a bully."

America backed away, not nearly fast enough. He felt the hand grab onto his jacket, bunching up the material and pulling on it with a strength that even America could not overcome.

"Woah dude, no!" America tried to keep any fear out of his voice, not willing to betray a bit of it "I'm stronger than you! You shouldn't be…"

"Your _country's military_ is stronger than mine." Russia didn't seem to mind admitting this, it even made him smile a bit "Yet… _I _am stronger that _you. _Too bad…you might have won if you didn't resort to such cheap methods of fighting, da?"

America's eyes widened a fraction of an inch, he attempted to bring the butt of the pistol down on the head of the man in front of him, but he was too slow once again. Russia caught his wrist before the gun could even come close to making contact, and he squeezed so hard that the pistol fell from America's hand the moment America lost his grip. "Now, now, America. It's over." he said, his smile widening, America could see the corners of his mouth rise over the collar of his coat "Just give up, da?"

In response, America spat in his face. His tormentor didn't even flinch "The petulance will disappear soon enough…" the larger man murmured, still calm. The hand on America's shirt moved to America's head, his grips soft for a second, as if in loving gesture, before it tightened and slammed America's head on a nearby rail.

The pain was horrid, America thought he felt his heartbeat in his head, the pulse growing stronger and stronger before it became nothing but a dizzying serenade of unconsciousness.

The last thing he heard before passing out was Russia's voice "Making you one of my little ones will prove to be fun…da?"


	2. Awaken

The first thoughts America was able to think past his pounding headache the next morning were quite simple.

"Oh shit…I have a hangover…"

A few seconds passed, and another clear thought appeared in his mind:

"Oh shit…I don't have a hangover, do I?"

Memories of the night before rushed in like shattered fragments, Russia's looming face remaining at their core, angering and frightening America in joint harmony. He vaguely wondered where he would find himself when he opened his eyes, and a sudden determination hit him as he promised himself that he would be brave no matter where he found himself.

His eyes snapped open, and he was relieved to find that his glasses were still on, unbroken by the fight between himself and the giant of the man who had captured him. He smiled weakly and pushed them up; looking around the simple room that he was in. He was lying on a bed, with plain white sheets and at the very end of a row of beds identical to itself. The thick sheets felt incredibly warm, probably made out of some kind of wool or a similar material. It felt heavy on his naked skin…

America let out an audible gasp, his hands flying to his bare chest as if his jacket would suddenly materialize under his palms, but all he felt was his own cold skin.

Allowing realization to sink in, he paused, looking down at himself before cursing furiously. He was unsure whether his anger stemmed from the fact that he was completely naked, or the fact that he didn't know where his jacket was. That jacket was special to him, and he wanted it back.

"Good Morning" a voice from beside him was audible, America turned his head to see that Russia had entered the room.

It took America a few seconds to realize that he had just been spoken to in Russian, but knowing that didn't help his mood. He opened his mouth, deciding to speak in English "Great. The stupid bastard Russia captured me. You realize I'm probably going to break out of here and then bomb the shit out of every one of your cities as payback, yeah?" He chuckled, knowing he didn't really mean it, but it was still gratifying to say.

"No, I did not know that. Thank you for the warning." Russia said with an unfading smile, causing America to jolt slightly in surprise. He hadn't expected Russia to understand him. However, Russia seemed unfazed, perhaps a little smug at the fact that America was staring at him, mouth agape.

Pointing to a neatly folded pile of white clothes, Russia spoke once again "You should get dressed, America. Breakfast will be ready shortly."

"Dude, there's no way I'm getting dressed in your lame-ass clothes. Where's my stuff?" America crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing.

"I put your clothes somewhere else. Now get dressed."

"I won't."

"Yes you will."

"Make me." Defiance ran through America, he despised Russia and wanted to make everything as difficult as possible for his kidnapper. Well, America decided, he might as well be difficult, because he wasn't Russia's bitch. You couldn't just kidnap the United Fucking States of America without trouble.

"I do not need to, you will do so on your own." Taking long steps, Russia walked towards him "America, what alternative is there? Walking around naked in my house?" with one swift motion, he ripped off the sheets covering America, looking down and shaking his head "That's really nothing to take pride in, da?"

America's eyes widened, the tips of his ears going pink, but he refused to make any move to cover himself. Sure, he was completely naked, and already growing uncomfortable under Russia's gaze, but being shy about something like that was…gay.

"Hah, you must live in one helluva weird place then. In my country, having a big dick is considered good." He retorted, glaring at the larger country harder than before.

With a blank stare, Russia did not speak for several seconds. Finally, his smile returned, and he turned around "Breakfast is ready, come upstairs once you're dressed." he left the room without another word, and America just stared at the spot where he once stood.

Minutes passed, America didn't make a single sound. After all of that, how could he? His kidnapper was a strange one; that was for certain…

Eventually, America decided to get dressed in the clothes put out for him, a crisp white shirt and pants. "Is this a mental hospital?" he mused aloud, looking at the clothes "Cuz these clothes look like they belong in one…"

He looked down at himself once before getting dressed, Russia's offhand comment hitting him harder than he would have liked to admit.

"Damn, America." he said to himself "You are. The single hottest person. In the whole wide world. You should get a medal for how hot and sexy-fying your body is. Like, a Nobel Peace Prize or somethin'."

He flexed his muscles for good measure before clothing himself. Although way too uncomfortably…formal-feeling, the clothes were warm, almost as warm as his jacket.

Sighing, he scratched his head, trying to figure out what to do next. He really had no idea what was going on, and was surprised at the freedom he had seemed to be given. Perhaps he simply expected something way worse, something that heroes seemed to always have to deal with when captured. Being chained up, tormented, locked in a basement in some godforsaken place, being chained up…dammit, he already had thought of that one.

Of course, he decided, he couldn't rule any of that out. Knowing Russia, he probably got off on shit like that, so America would have to keep his guard up at all times, ready to fight his way free at any second.

Ugh, America decided he wouldn't joke about what Russia did or didn't get off on, even to himself. He really didn't care, and it just made him feel insecure for some odd reason.

He turned around, opening the door and walking up the skinny, enclosed staircase, trying to clear his head as he did so. He pushed up his glasses once again, not knowing what he would see.

On the main floor, America kept his chin up, looking around. He was in a room next to the dining room, which was connected to a small kitchen.

Slowly, he walked into the dining room, and did a double-take. He hadn't noticed the lone figure sitting at the table, looking sad and disheveled.

"Canada? Bro, is that you?"

The quieter country looked up. He had a black eye, and blood tricked down one lip "A…" his voice failed "America?"

"Dude, what are you doing in a place like this?"

"I don't know…" America could barely hear his brother's voice "Russia captured me yesterday…saying something about wanting the whole family here or something…"

"Yes, having a whole collection is nice, da?" Russia walked into the room, carrying two plates with food and setting one down in front of Canada and one on the table space next to him, motioning for America to sit there "You two were the easiest to get. Since you two live so far from the others…getting the other two will be a bit difficult." he gestured again for America to sit.

America's gluttony finally got the best of him as he sat down and began to eat, glaring up at the smirking country standing at his side "What do you want with us?"

Russia stared at him for a few seconds, his mouth curling into a wider smile and simply shrugging "I'll figure it out in detail later, da? It does not concern you any more." He reached one gloved hand out, running it lightly across the cold skin on America's face, hooking for a split second on his lip "What will happen is none of your business. I don't like my toys being too self-aware, da? You will learn that over time."


	3. Betting

Days passed slowly in Russia's household. Horribly, unbearably slowly. Perhaps if America did any of the chores given to him, he'd have something to fill the empty span of time he spent around the house…but…

There was no way that he'd give Russia the satisfaction of knowing he'd do as he was told.

Heck, the only reason he was still in this house was because of the heavy blizzard outside. The snow practically locked everyone in the humongous house inside, and Russia seemed incredibly smug when he brought up the fact that America could attempt to escape of he wished. It was pretty clear that going out into that snow was a death sentence.

So America spent the long winter days watching his brother do the chores assigned to the two of them, figuring it was better than locking himself in a room all day.

Canada had seemed to be getting worse and worse, though. Dark circles had grown under his eyes, and he had taken to the Baltics' habit of flinching and cowering most of the time when Russia spoke to him. America never questioned it, but it did spark a bit of confusion in him. Canada was meek, sure, but never so…scared. It worried America greatly.

After about a month, Russia spoke to America, it seemed like the two of them hadn't exchanged words for the entire month America had spent there.

"Why haven't you been doing your chores?" his tone was not accusatory, he simply seemed a bit curious as to why America hadn't done as he was told "Are you really so lazy that you'd prefer to lie around instead of getting some work done?"

"Don't see why I need to do anything." America said "Bro, as soon as that storm dies down, I'm outta here. I don't wanna be here, you know? So why would I-"

"America, you do realize that you're not a guest here, right?" Russia tilted his head "I'll stop you from leaving even when the storm isn't raging so. You're a captive here. You should act like it."

"Well then, you should act more like a kidnapper." A sneer appeared on America's face "Go ahead. Give me a reason to deck you in the face."

The stare Russia gave him was constant, wide eyes boring into America's, a curiosity growing stronger and stronger within them "Ah…? Do I need to?" he asked quietly "I'll think about that." he nodded to himself, and America realized his own mistake. Did Russia take that seriously? Was he actually holding back from being mean? Did America just make things worse on himself? Damn it!

He watched Russia turn and leave before going back to his brother, sitting down angrily next to the quieter country "Why is Russia such a damn jerk?" "Hah?" Canada's head snapped to the left to look at America "What did he do?!"

The urgency in Canada's voice shocked America "Well…um…commented on me not…doing chores…" for the first time in a while, America's voice was quiet. He didn't expect such a reaction from his brother, it sounded like Canada's mind had immediately jumped to a horrible conclusion just from that one sentence America had said.

"Oh." Canada went back to working "You scared me there for a second. I thought he had hurt you or something."

"Psh, no way. The guy is all talk, I'm telling you. Don't go worrying your maple syrup loving head, broha."

It would have been so easy to miss Canada biting his lip, as if refraining from replying. However, even though America saw that, he was in such a habit of ignoring the other nation that he didn't think twice about it.

There was definite tension in the air now, but that was another thing America ignored quite easily.

He simply sat there and steamed for a few minutes. He was so pent up in this damn house…and the confusing conversation he had with his captor made his own personal tension reach his peak. He shifted uncomfortably; he just wanted to do something, anything, to make sense of this idiotic, so-called kidnapping.

Even in this house, America didn't doubt his own strength over Russia's. If he was able to provoke the giant of a man into violence, perhaps things would make more sense. Violence would fix things. It was impossible to make a fight confusing, yeah?

So he waited, he walked back to the room that he, Canada, Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia shared and got ready for bed in the bland pajamas that matched his clothes alongside his sibling. He waited until everyone was in bed, eyes soon adjusting to the dim light that always invaded this room at nighttime.

Soon enough, America recognized the rhythmic breathing of all of his roommates that meant that they had all quickly fallen asleep. That was his cue to get out of the room before any of them noticed. Like a spy or something. Spies were cool. That was America. The super ninja hero spy fighting the stupid Slavic brute.

He snuck out of the room quite easily, floorboards nice and quiet as he crept along. He cracked his knuckles, happy that he finally had something to do as he slowly walked upstairs, knowing exactly where Russia's room was. He hoped the older man was asleep, it would make jumping him so much easier.

He slowly, silently opened the door, only a crack just in case. He peered into the room, his "epic super spy ninja hero from the west" glasses flashing as a grin appeared on his face. Russia was awake, yes, but facing away from the door, looking out the window at the snow-covered landscape, holding a bottle of some sort of alcohol in one gloved hand. Probably vodka, America guessed.

Once again, America failed to read the melancholy of the scene, completely focused on ambushing the other man. He crept into the room, being as quiet as possible as he prepared one fist to swing-

He found himself suddenly unable to breathe, unable to feel the floor under his feet, the air around him moving way too fast. He didn't even know what happened until he opened his eyes, which had closed automatically for some reason that he couldn't quite guess. Pain seared through his back, he had hit the bed behind him, hard. Russia had one hand around America's throat; he must have grabbed him and slammed him backwards in less than a second.

For a minute, all America could do was stare in shock, brain still processing what had just happened. How had Russia moved so fast? How did he even know that there was someone behind him?

"America, what are you doing in my room?"

"H-how…"

"You really need to lose that weight. I heard you the moment you were doing the walking in." Russia said calmly "You were about to hit me." his voice slurred a little bit, America looked at his red-rimmed eyes and back to the bottle in his other hand, noticing it was almost empty.

"D-dude…you know you're only supposed to take shots of that stuff at a time..."

"That does not answer my question in any way, shape, or form." Russia said. America had never seen him like this before. He looked tired and angry, much more dangerous than he usually did with his smiling, sweet face. However, the answer to the question must not have been so urgent for Russia to get, as he continued to speak "I'm guessing you didn't speak with Canada about this? He promised me you wouldn't be so foolhardy, we even went so far to make a deal…"

"…what?" America blinked before swinging his fist at Russia as well as one leg, managing to kick Russia away for a split second before Russia flipped America over and sat on him, legs pinning America to the spot.

"He seemed to be afraid that I would touch you strangely or something like that." Russia murmured "Not that I was planning on it, considering bestiality has never really been a thing of mine…" he chuckled, it was obvious his brain was wandering from one subject to the other as he focused on speaking "So we made a deal. But you just broke it. Does that mean I have to touch you strangely? I certainly don't want to…" "What?!"

"Hmm…kind of puts me in a confusing place here…heh…hehehe…" Russia began to laugh quietly "Hey, America, do you believe that being a victim in the past excuses mean future behaviour?"

America didn't bother repeating his question for a third time.

"No answer? Huh." he grabbed America's right arm, twisting it behind his back before slamming America's upper body up and down on the bed, each time America hit it he punctuated it with a word "Because…I…certainly…hope…it…does!"

America opened his mouth, biting back several cries of pain. It hurt horribly, and America feared that something in his arm might snap if Russia continued.

"Hey, hey…" America felt Russia's breath on his left ear; he could smell the strong stench of alcohol on him now. How much had he drunk? "America? Ammmerica…I don't like you. I haven't liked you for a long, long time. You know why? Because you're a bully. You appeared out of nowhere and started bullying me."

There was silence in the room for several more seconds; America thought what Russia was saying was ridiculous. He had better things to do than listen to the ramblings of a man who was obviously so wasted that he could barely speak sense.

"I'd like to rip you apart for it, you know. How should I do it? Draw and quarter you? Pull you to pieces? Devour you?-" On the last suggestion, America felt something wet and warm traveling up his ear. With a shudder, he realized that it was Russia's tongue.

Oh shit. Russia was that kind of drunk.

"Hah…finally a normal reaction from you, America. You are not liking how that feels, then?"

"Of course not…" America hissed "You disgusting-"

"Let's make a deal of our own, then." Russia said quietly "Because I'm not sure that I like the way you taste anyway."

"Wha…"

"It'll be fun, America. Like a game." Russia cooed, personality switching, seemingly in seconds "I'll let you and your brother free after the blizzard ends if you win, and I won't touch you, either."

"…what do I have to do?"

"No violence. No interfering in anything I do."

"And you won't touch me, right?"

"Da, as long as you do as I just said."

America was quiet for several seconds, speaking on autopilot. Anything to get out of this awkward as hell conversation "All right. Sounds good. Lemme go."

Russia smiled, getting off of him and letting America get halfway to the door before speaking again "When you lose, though, you're life will become a living hell, I warn you…" he giggled "Just a matter of time."

"Bull. You probably won't even remember this conversation in the morning."

"You'd better hope I forget…" Russia giggled again, finishing off his drink "How fun…"

America walked out before leaning against the wall, incredibly confused. Even violence was confusing now.

It was official, he hated this damn house.


End file.
